


When You Never See The Light

by Kapua



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon, Yennaia, soft sorceresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26472766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kapua/pseuds/Kapua
Summary: A brief snapshot in time. Featuring soft sorceresses in the aftermath of a battle, hair braiding, and feelings.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 16
Kudos: 83





	When You Never See The Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thinkbucket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkbucket/gifts).



> Thinkbucket prompted me a loooong time ago to do something involving one of them playing with the other's hair, and this was the result. Promptly forgot I wrote it and rediscovered it today, so here you go :)

Yennefer stands in the doorway, unsure whether to enter or leave. It's been less than a day since their most recent skirmish against Nilfgaard's troops. There were no major casualties, not like there were at Sodden, but there had been a few close calls—one of which involved the woman currently seated in the room Yennefer is peering into. 

Tissaia has become even more protective of the other mages in the wake of what happened at Sodden, and she'd been at the front of the attack formation conjuring protective shields for their forces. Unfortunately that meant that she was a prime target for Nilfgaard's archers, and in her unflagging determination to stop the arrows from reaching the others, she'd allowed one to slip through and into her own side. 

It hadn't been a serious wound—no more than a graze, really. She hasn't even allowed them to heal it yet, instead insisting that everyone else be treated first. But Yennefer can still taste the coppery fear at the back of her throat from the moment when she saw the arrow racing toward its target, the crushing helplessness that had made time slow around her as she realized she would be too slow to stop it. 

She and Tissaia haven't spoken about what transpired between them at Sodden. There is something new in their interactions now, though Yennefer cannot ( _will not_ ) put a name to it. It's the delicate way their fingers sometimes brush when they're poring over maps late at night and planning their strategy for the morrow, how she can spot the almost-invisible quirk at the corner of Tissaia's mouth that means she's trying not to smile when their eyes meet from across the table. She doesn't know what to make of it, but she knows that it's _good_ —and she also knows that she could have lost it if that archer's aim had been just a bit better.

Tissaia has bathed already, her skin scrubbed raw and clean of the dirt and blood from battle, and her hair is falling about her shoulders in loose waves. She's seated on a low bench in front of a mirror, and she raises her hands to start plaiting her hair into its usual rows. The movement draws a wince from her, and that subtle flinch is what makes Yennefer's decision for her. 

"Let me."

Her voice is soft, but she catches the way Tissaia's shoulders tighten briefly as she startles. The smaller woman relaxes quickly and blows out a frustrated breath. "I can do it myself."

Yennefer comes up behind her and looks at them in the mirror as she gently rests her hands on Tissaia's shoulders. "I know you can. But you don't have to." She waits patiently for Tissaia to respond, just feeling the narrow bones under her hands, the muted warmth rising through the fabric of the dressing gown. It is not lost on her that this is a sort of echo of how Tissaia had once stood behind her in Rinde. Everything feels different now, though, and she wonders idly how different things might be if she had only swallowed her pride and hurt all those years ago. 

Tissaia's eyes find Yennefer's in the mirror as if she knows what the younger woman is remembering. Her gaze softens and she sighs, the last of the tension in her shoulders bleeding away. 

"I reserve the right to redo them if they end up lumpy and uneven."

Yennefer feigns hurt, but she can't keep the smile fully from her lips at the teasing that is clear in Tissaia's voice. She loves getting to see this side of the normally-reserved Rectoress, and she loves even more that it seems to be something that Tissaia reserves only for her.

She gathers the dark fall of Tissaia's hair in one hand, pulling all of the strands together until she can run her fingers through them to remove any tangles. Her nails scratch lightly at Tissaia's scalp and she feels a thrill of pleasure when the smaller woman hums under her breath, eyes slipping closed at the sensation. She savors the silken softness of the hair sliding between her fingers, the faint perfume of whatever oils Tissaia used in the bath rising to surround them in a pleasant haze. She's almost disappointed when she realizes that she's gotten all of the tangles out, and she reluctantly pulls her hands away so that she can separate the hair into different sections in preparation for the braiding.

Her fingers move quickly, weaving the sections into a neat five-strand braid. She sees the surprise in Tissaia's eyes and shakes her head with a small laugh. "Just because you didn't teach us something at Aretuza doesn't mean I've been incapable of learning new things in the decades since."

"You'll forgive me if I didn't imagine you sitting around learning to braid hair while gallivanting across the Continent," Tissaia murmurs, but the tiny smile she gives Yennefer makes the words come out fond rather than biting.

"I needed something to occupy myself in between orgies," Yennefer retorts with a raise of an eyebrow. And maybe once Tissaia would have chastised her for the cheek, but now the older woman just rolls her eyes and tilts her head a little bit to give Yennefer better access to the side she's working on. 

The movement exposes the long line of her neck to Yennefer's gaze, and she pauses when her eyes catch the fluttering pulse of Tissaia's jugular just below the skin. She reaches out without thinking and trails a finger along the delicate skin until she can press the pad of her finger against the pulse. She bites her lip as the steady beating rushes reassuringly against her touch, soothing the last of the fear that she hadn't even realized was still lingering from the battlefield. 

Tissaia stays perfectly still until Yennefer blows out the breath she was unknowingly holding in a great rush. And even then, she only straightens enough so that she can meet Yennefer's eyes in the mirror and watch her curiously. 

"I can't watch you die," Yennefer whispers. Something about the trust Tissaia has shown her by allowing her to help has broken down her own walls along the way, and the words are more honest than she would normally allow. But the memory of the arrow racing for Tissaia and being unable to stop it is still fresh enough that she has to say _something_ , has to find a way to make Tissaia understand the terror she'd felt at the thought of the older woman's death. 

Fortunately she doesn't need to say anything else, as Tissaia's lips twist and she gets a knowing look on her face. "We all die sometime, darling," she says quietly. "And I could not bear it if harm came to you—to any of you—when I might have done something to prevent it. I would die for you, Yennefer, do you not know that?"

Yennefer's heart constricts at the words and the sentiment behind them. She can't find a way to articulate the emotions spinning through her, to explain to Tissaia that she doesn't want to be safe if it comes at the other woman's expense. It's too much, and she can only respond with a question.

"Would you live for me, too?"

She sees the way that Tissaia's eyes widen in surprise and wonders if this is it, if she's pushed too far or asked for too much. But then a warm hand tentatively comes up to cover the one she still has pressed against Tissaia's neck, and the smaller woman is nodding slowly. "If that was what you wanted."

There is so much Yennefer wants to say in response. Things like _Yes, I want_ and _You are everything that is worth saving in this godsforsaken world_ and other things that are too visceral and real for her to feel comfortable even thinking to herself, much less saying aloud. She settles for nodding back and letting the palm of her hand settle more fully against the warm skin of Tissaia's neck. The moment feels the way the air does just before lightning strikes, all crackling energy waiting for an outlet. She forces herself to move her hand away after a few seconds, but she lets her nails lightly drag across the skin as she does. The shiver that races through Tissaia is barely noticeable, but it's definitely there, and it sends sparks of desire into Yennefer's chest. 

Her fingers are significantly shakier as she returns to finish the braids she'd begun earlier. She leaves them hanging unpinned since she assumes Tissaia will be going to bed soon, but then realizes she doesn't know what to do next. It would probably be polite to leave now that she's finished helping Tissaia with her hair, but she doesn't _want_ to leave. She can't think of a way to say that without leaving her heart exposed and vulnerable, though, so she turns and begins to head for the door.

She only makes it a few steps before she hears the scrape of the bench being pushed back and warm fingers close around her wrist, holding her in place. Tissaia tugs until Yennefer is facing her once more. 

Yennefer looks down at her and is momentarily mesmerized by the way the candlelight dances across Tissaia's face, shadows catching along her cheekbones and flames glittering in her blue eyes. A soft hand comes up to brush against her cheek as Tissaia stares at her searchingly. After a few moments of intense scrutiny, the smaller woman sighs and cups Yennefer's cheek more fully.

"Stay."

The word is breathed out so quietly that Yennefer can almost convince herself she's imagined it, but the hint of uncertainty in Tissaia's eyes is enough to dispel that notion. She knows that if she does this, it will change things between them in a way that they can't come back from. Whatever they've been dancing around will be made real and concrete, for better or worse, and there will inevitably be consequences no matter what happens.

But she can't imagine denying Tissaia—can't imagine denying _herself_ , because she knows in her heart that this is what she wants. 

So she stays.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always for reading! <3


End file.
